


King of the Damned

by LadyWallace



Series: Raising Hell [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, BAMF Castiel, BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Sam Winchester, Gen, Hell Headcanon, Hostage Situations, Hurt Sam, Hurt/Tortured Dean, King Of Hell Sam Winchester, Knight of Hell Dean Winchester, Raising Hell Verse, Series, The Winchesters rule hell, also BAMF demons, hurt/tortured Castiel, sort of home invasion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21858979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWallace/pseuds/LadyWallace
Summary: (Raising Hell Verse #3) Hell has been breached by the last remaining Prince of Hell, Asmodeus, who is determined to make himself King. With his throne and his family threatened it's up to Sam and company to take down this new threat before Asmodeus gets too comfortable.
Relationships: Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester & Castiel
Series: Raising Hell [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1479407
Comments: 25
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, guys it's time for the next installment of the Raising Hell Verse! This one is quite a bit angstier than the others, but I hope you all enjoy it ^_^

Dean Winchester strode purposefully toward Hell's prison. Technically, this was more like a holding cell, where unruly demons were put before it was decided what to do with them, but it had seen quite a bit of action since the Winchesters took over rule of Hell. There had been a lot of demons with rebellious inclination put away during that time.

That is, the ones Dean didn't simply dispatch in the name of the King.

Cas was only a few steps behind him, and they soon got to the cell where Winston, the captain of the guard, was standing.

"Do you want me to accompany you for the interrogation, Master Winchester?" Winston asked him.

"No," Dean replied and allowed the captain to unlock the cell before he and Cas stepped in.

A demon sat manacled to a chair. He looked up at Dean with defiance in his eyes, though didn't do too well with concealing the fear underneath. He tugged at his manacles but they were warded and the action did little good.

Cas moved off to one side, standing by the door, arms folded over his chest. Making it clear that there would be no escape, a formidable figure in his new black trench coat.

"So, Rich," Dean said, slowly taking off his leather duster and folding it neatly to place on a table off to one side that held a few torture implements. "Why don't you tell me exactly what you know."

The demon snorted. "I don't know nothing," he sneered.

"Hm," Dean said, glancing at Cas and making a show of shrugging. "I heard you were chatty enough with some of your buddies. Or were you just trying to be the big man on the block?"

Rich looked away derisively. Dean walked behind him and bent over. "You might want to find it in yourself to be that chatty again, Rich."

"I don't have anything to say," Rich gritted from between clenched teeth, but seemed less sure of himself this time.

"Well, Cas, he doesn't have anything to say," Dean appealed to the angel who cocked his head disapprovingly at the demon. "Guess I'm wasting my time here."

"And you know what happens when you waste the Knight of Hell's time," Cas added, his voice a warning growl.

"There's nothing to tell, I swear!" Rich protested, voice rising as panic started to set in.

Dean sighed, resting a hand on the back of the demon's chair, making the captive flinch. "Now, see, I just don't buy that, Richie. Because I could have sworn I heard you say something about letting someone in that shouldn't have been in here. Is that right? And if we find out that whoever it is you let in is the one who let the Shedim free, well…" He leaned over, moving his hand to the demon's shoulder and squeezing threateningly. "Well, then, Rich, this just ain't gonna be a good day for you."

"What happened to Dennis, Rich?" Cas cut in. "The guard who was supposed to be watching the gate to Pandemonium? By all accounts you were supposed to relieve him, but you never showed up."

"Even though those alarms went off two hours after you were supposed to have taken over the post," Dean added, stepping back and folding his arms over his chest. "So what happened, Rich? You decide to blow off your shift? Call in sick?"

The demon wriggled in discomfort, and Dean shared a look with Cas before he went over to the table and began to arrange the tools there. "See, I'm willing to be lenient, but you've gotta level with me, Rich. I need to know exactly what happened and why you seem to be more afraid of telling me the truth than you are of me." He carefully picked up a bottle of holy water and then a syringe, slowly filling it.

Rich swallowed hard, his agitation growing. Dean walked over to stand in front of him. He pressed the plunger of the syringe to create a thin spray of holy water that fell just inches from Rich's left foot. The demon flinched hard and shrank back into his chair.

"What do you think, now, Rich? You more scared of the truth or me?"

Cas was coming forward now too, standing behind the demon. Rich was shaking, hands clenched into fists. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Still no? Okay."

Cas grabbed the demon's head and pulled it back to expose his neck as Dean lunged with the syringe.

"Wait!" the demon screamed right before the needle pricked his flesh.

"What was that?" Dean asked, not moving.

The demon swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "I'll tell you. I'll tell you!"

Dean stepped back and Cas released him, but they both stayed within close range.

"Go on," Dean commanded.

Rich licked his lips. "Okay, so I was going to my post that day when Dennis met me on the way there and told me I should turn back and not worry about it. He paid me souls—good contracts about to run up. Ones from…before." He trailed off at Dean's scowl, and then rushed on. "So, I took the offer. I didn't know what he wanted to keep me out of there for and then when the alarms went off I…I realized that something really bad had happened and I laid low."

"Mm-hm," Dean murmured blandly.

"But when Dennis left me, he was on his way out of Hell," Rich said. "He couldn't have gone back to open the gates himself unless he had already done it, but then you found him dead…It doesn't make sense!"

"No, it doesn't," Dean muttered, but that was the missing piece they had been looking for. There had been two Dennises, or at least something that looked just like him.

Rich looked between the two of them. "That's all I know, I swear!"

Dean left him sweating for a couple more seconds before he turned to put the holy water syringe back on the table and grab his coat, shrugging it back on as he and Cas left the cell.

"Wait! Can I go now?" Rich called after them.

Dean shut the door and turned to Winston. "Keep him locked up for a while. We'll decide what to do with him later."

They had bigger stuff to worry about right now.

"Come on," Dean told Cas. "Let's go tell Sam."

_~~~~~~~~_

_Sam ran a hand through his hair_ as he reached for his cup of coffee. It was mostly cold now, but the caffeine was still good. He reached up to rub at his shoulder with a wince. The wound he had gotten in the attack from the Shedim still hadn't healed entirely even after a week. He'd begun to take for granted the rapid healing abilities his position as King of Hell had afforded him, but this had been no ordinary wound and therefor wasn't playing by the rules. At least he was out of bed now, just barely.

"Your Majesty, if you need to take a break, we can look over these forms later."

Sam glanced up at Wheatly, his Steward, who was currently sitting across from him as they looked over the newest soul collection forms.

"No, no, I'm good. The longer I leave this the more I'm going to have to play catch-up." Not that the general influx of souls seemed important at the moment even though the rational part of Sam knew that it was an integral part of the infrastructure of Hell. He was just having a hard time concentrating knowing that they still needed to find out who had gotten into Hell and let the Shedim loose, nearly succeeding in killing him _and_ bringing down his kingdom. He wished he was out investigating with Dean and Cas, but instead he was cooped up in his office, recovering from his injury and doing paperwork.

It was good to be king, he thought wryly.

"Well, you'll be glad to know, my lord, that there are just a few more of the crossroads deals you have to look over," Wheatly said with false optimism as he set a rather hefty stack of files down in front of Sam.

Sam pressed his lips into a thin line and reached for the top one.

The door to his office opened then, and Wheatly stood, glancing around in disapproval before he realized it was Dean and Cas.

Sam perked up instantly. "Hey, did you find out anything?"

"Oh yeah, Rich talked." Dean went over to the service cart Wheatly had brought in and poured himself a cup of coffee.

Sam sat up straighter. "What did he say?"

Dean sat on the edge of the desk. "That _Dennis_ was the one who told him to take off guard duty—paid him to keep his mouth shut—even though, by all other accounts, Dennis was dead and stuffed in a crack at that point."

Sam frowned. They'd suspected something strange had happened. "Okay, but, aside from a shapeshifter, what could take on another form like that?"

"Well, an archangel," Cas commented. "But as far as we know, they're all dead. Or locked away."

Sam felt his stomach twist at even the thought that it could be Lucifer behind this. Still, he didn't think Lucifer would have gone under the radar this long and by all accounts he was still in an alternate, apocalyptic, universe. It had to be something else.

"Which leaves us what?" Dean demanded. "Like you said, there's only a couple things that can take on other forms. Unless Dennis had an evil twin."

Wheatly exhaled slowly. "Well, Master Winchester, there is one other explanation. I mentioned before that it was possible the last Prince of Hell could be behind this?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "And yet there's no real evidence of that either."

The steward pursed his lips. "Well, that's not entirely true. There were rumors that he had gained other powers somehow. That he was able to shapeshift."

Sam frowned. He didn't like the idea of going up against one of the yellow-eyes much more than he did Lucifer, but surely with their newly gained powers, it wouldn't be so difficult to defeat one.

"But if it is him, why would he be showing interest now?" Sam mused. "I mean we've been here for a year now and he didn't bother showing up before."

"He may not have even found out about your appointment until recently," Wheatly said. "News might travel fast in Hell, but the Princes went their own way long ago. Azazel was the only one who showed interest in Hell's dealings."

"So how do we find this guy?" Dean demanded. "If he's gonna be a problem we need to have a peace talk or something and if that doesn't work, then I guess we'll just go with the old standby."

"I don't know, Master Winchester," Wheatly replied honestly.

"Well, look into it. Let's just hope we find him before he tries something else."

Wheatly nodded and seemed to take that as a dismissal because he left, leaving Sam with his brothers.

"What do you think, Cas?" Sam asked the angel. "Do you know anything about the fourth Prince of Hell?"

The angel shook his head. "No. Not much. Mostly just his name—Asmodeus."

"Well, we've killed all his siblings, so he can't be too much worse. Collect all four," Dean quipped, draining his coffee before he set the cup on the desk and turned to Sam. "How's the shoulder?"

Sam cringed a bit as he shrugged. "Okay. It's getting better, just slowly."

He saw Cas's face harden and felt bad for mentioning it. The angel had taken it hard finding out that he apparently couldn't heal Sam and Dean anymore due to their pseudo-demonic nature. Normally that wouldn't be a problem since that curse came with the blessing of most of their injuries being completely healed within a couple days much like Cas. But the wound from the Shedim had nearly killed Sam, and Cas had felt terrible for not being able to help him. It was just something they were going to have to get through and learn how to deal with.

With a sigh, he reached for the stack of forms he had to look over again. "Well, at least now we have an idea of what we're looking for so we'll be ready. We'll start trying to figure out how to track down Asmodeus tomorrow."

Dean nodded and patted Sam gently on his good shoulder. "Don't worry, kiddo. We'll get to the bottom of this and get our kingdom running smoothly again."

Sam forced a tired smile at his brother, and took up his pen.

How much would he give for it to be that easy?

_~~~~~~~_

_Because, of course,_ it wasn't, and they were not at all ready.

He came while they were asleep in their beds.

The first indication Sam had that something was wrong was Juliet shifting against his feet, a low growl rumbling in her chest, which woke him up.

"What is it, girl? Go back to sleep," Sam mumbled, already rolling over to try and find a position where his shoulder didn't hurt so much.

Commotion exploded in the room. The door slammed open and Juliet launched herself off the bed with a loud bark, bearing the attacker to the ground with the sound of a wet scream of surprise.

Sam jolted upright to see shadowy figures rushing toward the bed. He reached for his demon blade on his nightstand but his fingers only just grazed it before he was set upon. His assailants grabbed him and dragged him out of bed. Sam fought, and could hear sounds of struggle from outside his room.

"Dean!" he cried out. "Cas!"

A fist slammed into his stomach and he folded, giving his attackers the chance to secure him more firmly, wrenching his arms behind his back, which sent a jolt of pain through his injured shoulder.

Juliet gave a snarling bark and tried leaping at the assailants again, but one kicked out at her viciously and she skidded back with a yelp.

"Juliet, heel!" Sam cried, worried they would just kill her if she continued to be a problem.

He was dragged out of his room to the main part of their suite, where he saw Dean and Cas being likewise restrained, both struggling.

"Sammy!" Dean cried before a fist was slammed into his face and he sagged, spitting blood as his eyes flicked to black angrily. "What the hell are you doing? Don't you know that's the King of Hell?"

Their attackers didn't seem to be listening, or were choosing to ignore them. They said nothing as they dragged the Winchesters and Cas out of the suite and toward the throne room.

Sam looked up as the doors were opened for them by unknown demons. The throne room was crowded, demons lining its walls, some huddled together, as other armed demons that Sam didn't recognize roamed around, making sure they didn't cause any trouble. It looked like all of Hell had been pressed into the room.

But that wasn't what caught Sam's focus as he was dragged inside and brought before the dais where his throne was.

In his place, sat a tall man—a demon, Sam could see—with longish hair and a salt and pepper beard, giving severity to his face. He wore an all-white suit and stared down at Sam as his captors dragged him toward the dais.

"Well, if it isn't the infamous Sam Winchester, in the flesh," the demon said, his voice a southern drawl.

"Who the hell are you?" Sam demanded, though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"I am Asmodeus," the demon said. "And I'm the new king around here."


	2. Chapter 2

_"I am Asmodeus. And I'm the new king around here."_

"Like hell."

Sam looked over at his brother, who was struggling in the grasp of the demons who held him.

"You're not taking this kingdom from us so easily," Dean continued. "You know who we are? We're the freaking Winchesters, you son of a bitch."

Asmodeus gazed down at him balefully from where he sat on the throne, looking less than impressed. "I've heard of you," he said. "I know you're responsible for the deaths of my brothers and sister. If you think I'm here for revenge, I'm not so petty. No, I'm here to claim what's rightfully mine." He stood up and walked slowly down from the dais onto the throne room floor. "I've had this coming to me for a long time, and now, with Lucifer gone and without Azazel and the others vying for the position, I'm the only one who is worthy to take control of the throne of Hell. Not some half-demon pissant hunters who got lucky with a half-baked inheritance left to you by some lowly crossroads demon."

Sam clenched his jaw, looking around at the gathered demons. To no surprise, he saw some nodding in agreement, but others looked furious. Among the latter, Wheatly and Winston, corralled on one side of the throne room with a lot of the guards and other demons Sam knew were loyal to him. True, part of him still kind of wished he could let this position go, especially with all the trouble they'd had, but another part of him was damn proud of what they had done in Hell. And he owed it to his subjects, loyal or not, to stand up for them.

He raised his head, standing as straight as possible in the demon's grip as he faced Asmodeus. "No matter I came by the appointment, I am still the King of Hell. What gives you the right to come into my kingdom, terrorize my subjects, and think you can take my throne?"

Dean and Cas both glanced at him, surprise, and a little pride, on their faces.

Asmodeus was less impressed. His face—which had long, pink scars down one side of it to either side of his eye, Sam noticed—was clouded with concealed anger. His lips twitched as he came to a halt right in front of Sam. He nodded to the guards and they released Sam though didn't go further than a couple steps.

"No one gives me the right," Asmodeus growled. "I take it."

Sam held his gaze, raising his arms to his sides in challenge. "You wanna take it? You're gonna have to go through me first."

"Sam," Cas said in warning.

Asmodeus chuckled. "Is that so?" He turned to the gathered demons. "How about I show you how weak your new boy king really is?" He turned back to Sam. "On your knees, boy."

Sam glowered at him. "Screw you."

Asmodeus's eyes flashed yellow and he flicked his hand out. Sam was prepared for him to be able to do nothing—after all, his powers didn't allow him to be manipulated by other demons, but he was shocked to feel the clench of Asmodeus's power. He gasped, fighting back against it, eyes flashing black as he tried to use his powers to control the Prince of Hell, but it wasn't working. He couldn't get a grasp on him like he could other demons. The effort was making his head ache and he felt a trickle of blood drip over his upper lip, his nose bleeding like it had when he had first started to practice with his new powers.

"Sammy!" Dean cried, his voice muffled in Sam's ears.

Sam clenched his jaw and glowered up at Asmodeus as the demon smirked at him and clenched his hand.

Sam tumbled to his knees, panting with exertion, catching himself on his hands as he slumped forward in a submissive position, obviously what Asmodeus had been looking for. Asmodeus turned to the gathered demons raising his hands.

"You see? Your new king is no match for me, and now he's showing his obeisance to me like the worm he is. Every one of you who swears his fealty to me now, casting aside this human boy, will be spared whatever I will decide is best for un-loyal subjects."

Sam raised his head with an effort, wanting to see how many of his demons were planning to take Asmodeus up on his offer.

There were murmurs among the demons, some of them nodding their heads and Sam's heart sank a bit, even though he had suspected no less.

"Enough!"

Sam looked up to see Wheatly pushing his way past the guards, coming over to stand firmly at Sam's side.

"You ungrateful wretches!" he snapped at the demons. "After everything His Majesty has done for us, you would betray him like that?"

"You, what is your name?" Asmodeus asked.

"Wheatly, Steward of Hell," the demon said with a sniff of contempt.

"And do you speak for all the demons here, Mr. Wheatly?" Asmodeus raised an eyebrow.

Jeers sounded out before Wheatly could speak. Sam pressed his lips into a thin line. He was grateful to his steward, he was. Wheatly had tried, but this wasn't something even he could win.

"I didn't think so," Asmodeus said, satisfaction in his voice.

"No matter their choice, I stand with my king," Wheatly told him firmly.

"Well, that is an admirable sense of loyalty you have there, Mr. Wheatly," Asmodeus commented. "And you will pay the price for it."

"No!" Sam's heart clenched in his chest as Asmodeus reached forward and yanked the Steward toward him by the front of his shirt before slamming a fist into his face. Wheatly took the punch stoically, but the next sent him straight to the ground, blood smearing across the stone floor.

Wheatly dragged himself upright, reaching for an angel blade in his coat, but only made it to his knees before Asmodeus simply twitched a wrist and froze him like he had Sam. He kicked the angel blade from the demon's hand, and it skittered across the floor. Sam watched helplessly as Asmodeus stood in front of Wheatly, a nasty smile on his face, then clenched his fist.

Wheatly let out a strangled cry, doubling over. He coughed and choked up blood. Asmodeus clenched his fist tighter and a scream was torn from the faithful steward, ripping at Sam's chest.

"Stop!"

Sam looked up to see Dean yanking against the guards that held him, fury in his eyes. "You leave him alone. I'm the Knight of Hell and these are my men. You'll go through me!"

"Dean, no," Sam hissed.

Asmodeus released his hold on Wheatly, however, and the steward dropped to the ground in a pool of blood, shuddering with small sounds of pain he was obviously trying to muffle. Winston and another demon hurried forward and dragged Wheatly back while Asmodeus was distracted.

"A Knight of Hell, huh?" Asmodeus said, looking Dean up and down. "We'll see about that."

Dean broke free from the guards, too late to realize they had allowed him to. He charged Asmodeus and the demon simply sidestepped, catching him with a left hook to the jaw, and a follow-up blow to the midriff. Dean folded with a grunt and Asmodeus hit him in the head again, sending Dean to the ground.

"Dean, stop!" Sam tried to say. Cas was also shouting a warning, but Dean wasn't going to stay down.

He was up, eyes black and surging toward Asmodeus.

The Prince of Hell only smirked, grabbing the elder Winchester around the throat and lifting him off the ground. Dean dangled, choking, clawing at the demon's hand, as Asmodeus turned to show his prize to the demons. "See what you've been serving?" he appealed. "Your king, your Knight? Nothing but weak, human pretenders."

He threw Dean so hard he flew into one of the pillars that adorned the outer sides of the dais. Dean dropped to the ground with a moan, rolling as he too decorated the floor with blood. He trembled as he pushed himself to his elbows, but still tried to get up.

Asmodeus strode over and kicked him in the stomach, so hard Sam was sure he had cracked some ribs, then slammed a fist into his face again. This time Dean didn't get up.

"Dean!" Cas shouted and strained against his captors. Asmodeus shot a look toward the angel.

"You stay where you are, halo. I have plans for you later."

Asmodeus strode back toward Sam and the younger Winchester finally felt the demon's hold release him, just in time to be replaced by Asmodeus's hand clenching in his hair and raising his head as he appealed to all the demons.

"I think that proves my point. Now." He released Sam and took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped blood from his hands. "Who is going to join me?"

There was a rush of demons, though some—Wheatly, Winston and more than Sam would have expected—stood back, grim looks on their faces.

"Very well," Asmodeus said, turning to his guards. "We'll start with the steward and the captain, make an example of those who serve pretenders to the throne of Hell."

"No," Sam said firmly and climbed shakily to his feet as Asmodeus turned to him. "Lock my people up if you have to, but don't kill them. I'm the one you want. I'll give myself for them."

"Sam, no," Cas warned. "He'll never honor that deal!"

Asmodeus chuckled. "Well, now, the angel does have a point. However…You are correct. I have no use for you dead. You or your brother. And if you care for your former subjects as much as you claim to, then there are other ways that I can keep you in line." He nodded to his guards. "Lock up the traitors in the prison. Then take the Winchesters and their pet angel to Tartarus."

Sam blanched slightly at that. Tartarus was the section of Hell where the souls were tortured. He instantly glanced toward Dean but his brother was, perhaps mercifully, still unconscious. He watched helplessly as his loyal demons were rounded up, the injured Wheatly included, until the steward determinedly pushed forward, still leaning on Winston.

"We wish to stay with His Majesty," Wheatly said firmly.

"You'll go with the traitors or I'll kill you now and save myself the trouble later," Asmodeus told him in no uncertain terms.

"Wheatly, just go," Sam said quietly, then added. "That's an order."

The steward glanced up at him indignantly before he schooled his expression. "Very well, my lord."

The guards took hold of Sam again as others scraped Dean off the floor, dragging him out of the room.

A snarling bark sounded through the room and Juliet barreled into the throne room from wherever she had been restrained. She leapt at Asmodeus only to have him grab a spear from one of his men and bat her away with it. She skidded with a yelp, growling.

"Who handles the hounds?!" Asmodeus demanded, holding Juliet off as one of his guards came and grabbed her collar. "Who?!"

Sean stepped out of the crowd of loyalists being herded away. "I do."

"Muzzle this bitch and lock her up," Asmodeus commanded.

Sean's face tightened and his fists clenched, but he whistled for Juliet. She quieted reluctantly.

"Go with him to make sure he does what he's supposed to," Asmodeus told one of his guards.

Sam felt a loss as Juliet was led out, practically dragged as she didn't want to leave her master. Sam was dragged out as well, he and Cas being hauled after the guards carrying Dean.

Tartarus was a good march from the throne room and Hell Proper. The gate was opened and already Sam could hear the echoing screams of the tortured souls. He shuddered. The only time he'd been here was when he'd been doing the Trials and had gone to get Bobby out. He had refused to come here even after gaining control of Hell. It was a part of the infrastructure that was necessary, but one he didn't really need to have a part in.

The three of them were taken to a cell and pushed inside. Dean was tossed unceremoniously on the filthy ground and the door was slammed shut and locked.

Sam instantly dropped to his knees beside his brother, rolling him onto his back and pillowing his head in his lap as he checked over his injuries.

"How is he?" Cas asked as he crouched on Dean's other side.

Sam finished a cursory examination, peeling one of Dean's eyelids up. "Nothing too bad, I think. He'll probably heal soon."

Cas reached out and settled a hand on Dean's forehead, closing his eyes as he took stock of the Knight of Hell's injuries. Sam saw the pinched expression and knew Cas was trying to heal Dean to no avail. The angel sat back on his heels after a minute, shoulders slumping.

"What are we going to do?" he asked.

Sam clenched his jaw and set a hand gently against his brother's chest to steady him as Dean groaned, thankfully already starting to come around. "I don't know, but we'll think of something. I'm not letting Asmodeus have my throne."

Cas nodded, his chin lifting a little at Sam's determination.

Inside, though, Sam couldn't help but think that this time they might be completely and utterly screwed.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean woke to a pounding head. He tried to raise it, feeling like he shouldn't be lying down at the moment, that something urgent was happening and he needed to be up, but the instant he started to lift it, pain lanced behind his eyes and he groaned.

"Hey, easy." A hand settled on his chest and rubbed gently. "Just take it easy, Dean, you took a pretty bad hit."

Dean forced his eyes open at least, and was grateful for the dim light in…wherever this was. He looked up to see Sam leaning over him and realized his head was resting in his brother's lap.

"Gah, what…" And then he remembered. Getting dragged out of bed, taken to their throne room where that bastard Asmodeus thought he could take over. Dean stepping in to keep him from killing Wheatly and then getting shamefully trashed.

"What the hell happened, where are we?" he demanded, looking around.

Sam swallowed, his throat bobbing. "Asmodeus had us taken to Tartarus."

Dean's guts clenched at the mention of the place where he had spent all his time when he had been dragged to Hell the first time. He had avoided it for the most part, it had been easy to, but now, locked up in a cell that was so much like his own had been when he wasn't on the rack—or standing over one. The smell, the brimstone and sulfur, so much more prominent here than it was in Hell Proper. And then, of course, there were the sounds. The distant screams and cries of the tortured souls.

He pushed himself upright despite the ache in his head and grunted as Sam and Cas both reached out to steady him.

"I'll be damned if I let evil Colonel Sanders take our kingdom," Dean gritted out, and wrapped an arm around his injured ribs.

Sam and Cas propped him against the wall, the three of them grim.

"We're not gonna let that happen," Sam promised. "But we need a plan."

"And we're not quite sure what that is yet," Cas added.

"I need to talk to him," Sam decided. "Maybe if I can make him think I'm willing to make some sort of deal…"

"Sam, you saw what he did back there, he's not going to deal with you," Cas cut in.

"But all he has is leverage over me," Sam insisted. "My throne, the safety of my subjects—you two." He swallowed hard and Dean saw the uncertainty, the fear, in his little brother's eyes and it made him wish he had his sword. Asmodeus wouldn't be able to take him so easily if he had. "He has nothing to lose, and I have everything. I just need to find a way to turn that around to use against him."

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line, reaching up to wipe some dried blood from his face. "I guess we just gotta keep fighting, Sammy. At the moment, that seems like our only option."

Sam took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. And we will." He set his jaw in determination. "We're not gonna let him win."

"What I don't understand," Dean said, thinking back through the events. "Is how he controlled you like that. I didn't think you could be thrown around by demons anymore."

"I didn't either," Sam said. "And I tried to control him too, and wasn't able to. It's like I couldn't even touch him."

"Maybe because he's a Prince of Hell?"

"I don't know," Cas mused. "Princes of Hell are strong, but…you're right, Sam, even if you couldn't manipulate him, he should not have been able to manipulate you. I read that contract Crowley made over and over. It clearly stated that anything of Hell could not manipulate you." He shook his head. "There's something odd about his powers, Asmodeus was never the strongest Prince, Azazel was. And now he can manipulate you and can also allegedly shapeshift, which is not something he should be able to do either."

"So, what then? He's supercharging himself with something?" Dean asked. "Maybe an artifact of some kind?"

"I don't know, but maybe, if we can figure out what, that might be the key to figuring out how we can defeat him," Cas said.

"In the meantime, there's nothing we can do in here," Sam said. "Eventually someone will probably be by. I'll try to get an audience with Asmodeus. Feel him out, try to figure out what's going on." He turned to Dean. "You should rest, it will help you heal faster."

"Like hell I'm gonna rest," Dean grunted. He _was_ tired, his body aching, but there was no way he would be able to sleep down here. He was already sweating from the heat of Tartarus, and he hadn't even been fully dressed. He and Sam had both been wearing their sleep clothes, sweat pants and henleys. Cas was even without his trench coat and tie, having been up researching when the attack came, so he didn't have his angel blade. No weapons on any of them. He rubbed a hand over his hair and tipped his head back against the wall.

Thinking of a plan would be a lot easier without his head feeling like Asmodeus was still beating it in.

_~~~~~~~_

_Asmodeus finished his exploration_ of his new kingdom with his guards before he returned to the throne room where his new subjects were gathered. He climbed the dais and stood in front of the throne, looking out at them.

"As your new ruler, I intend to bring things back to the way they were before this new _regime._ " He sneered the word and the demons nodded in approval. "I understand there have been limits on crossroads deals lately. Well, no more of that. Go back to making all the deals you like."

A cheer went up, but Asmodeus held up a hand.

"However, I don't want to see anyone taking too many liberties. I will run a tight ship. And I do not tolerate disobedience in any category."

He looked out to the crowd. "Silas, Diana, Matthias, step forward."

Three demons hesitantly stepped out of the crowd, looking around in bewilderment.

Asmodeus stepped off the dais and went to stand in front of him. He snapped his fingers and one of his lackeys came forward, carrying a sack of golden artifacts that he dropped at Asmodeus's feet.

The Prince of Hell looked down balefully at it. "You three decided a regime change was a good time to do some looting?"

The three demons trembled and Asmodeus reached out, grabbing Silas around the throat. "Well?"

"S-sorry, sire," the demon choked out.

"Sorry isn't good enough," Asmodeus said and dropped him before raising a hand and clenching his fist.

All three demons cried out, sparks like lightning bursting under their skin before they dropped dead to the ground.

"And that's a lesson not to disobey me," he said. "You serve me now, remember that." He snapped his fingers and pointed to a group of demons in the crowd. "Clean this up." He then walked out of the throne room, toward the prisons.

They were bursting with the demons who had mistakenly stayed loyal to the Winchester boy. Asmodeus had been disgusted at how many hadn't defected. But he would give them time, he was sure that once they saw some of the things he had planned, they would change their tune.

He stopped at the cell with the doughty steward and the captain of the guard. Both of them glowered at him balefully as he stood in front of the bars.

"What have you done with the king?" the steward demanded.

Asmodeus raised an eyebrow. " _I_ am the king, and you had best remember it. The only reason I spared you is because I think you could be useful to me. You served Sam Winchester directly, you know everything about him and his brother and that angel. And you know everything about Hell. You're a valuable piece to have. I have a feeling your integrity and your loyalty are what matter most to you, am I right?"

All he got was a glower. He smirked. "As I suspected. Well, Mr. Wheatly, those will be put to the test, I promise you that."

"You can burn," Wheatly snarled at him.

Asmodeus chuckled. "I may have to take your tongue, boy."

He turned from the cell and nodded to his guards. "Come. I want to go pay my predecessor a visit."

_~~~~~~~_

_Sam sat with his knees_ pulled up to his chest beside Dean, Cas on his other side. His shoulder ached persistently but he couldn't be bothered with it. Dean was resting as much as he could, and Sam was at least relieved to see that his bruises were already starting to fade a little. That was something to be grateful for at least.

Dean jolted awake the instant footsteps were heard in the hallway outside the cell. Sam didn't miss the pallor on his brother's face and the sheen of sweat that broke out on his brow. He set a gentle hand on his shoulder, reminding Dean that he wasn't alone.

Asmodeus and a couple of his guards stopped in front of their door. Sam and Cas were on their feet instantly, Dean rising on his own with a little more effort.

"Well, I have to say that a prison does look good on you, Winchester," Asmodeus said with a satisfied smirk.

"I demand an audience," Sam said firmly. "Even conquerors should offer terms."

Asmodeus raised an eyebrow. "I already offered terms. Join me, or suffer the consequences. You didn't join me, so now you're suffering the consequences."

"Then why bother keeping me alive?" Sam asked. "I have nothing on you in my current position, no power. You have nothing to lose by talking terms with me."

Asmodeus stared at him for a long moment, before his gaze slid to Dean who was leaning against the wall, still guarding his injured ribs. Then his gaze slid over to Cas and lingered with a twitch of his lips, staring the angel up and down, all too calculating, almost _hungry_. Sam didn't like that look at all.

"What are you staring at?" Cas finally demanded when the demon's gaze stayed far past the length of propriety.

Asmodeus smiled mockingly. "It's been a long time since I've had an angel in my presence."

"Are we having a discussion or not?" Sam demanded, trying to defuse the uncomfortable tension between the two supernatural beings.

Asmodeus finally returned his gaze to Sam, seeming annoyed at the interruption. "Fine. We'll talk if that's what you want." He nodded to his guards and they opened the cell.

Sam stepped forward and Dean and Cas made to do the same.

"Just the former king," Asmodeus told them with a sneer before the guards grabbed Sam and dragged him out before slamming the door in Dean and Cas' faces.

"You son of a bitch," Dean growled. "Sammy, be careful."

Sam nodded before he was hustled down the hallway. He shook the guards off and continued walking between them himself.

Once they got back to Hell Proper, the gathered demons stared as Asmodeus paraded him past. Some of them sneered, or even spit at him and Sam glowered their way, raising his head. He wasn't going to be deterred. They weren't really acting much worse than they had when he was king.

They ended up in Sam's office which he saw, to his anger, that Asmodeus had mostly cleared, all his paperwork shoved into boxes stacked against one wall. Wheatly would have a fit if he saw the files…

Wheatly. Sam suddenly wished his steward was with him. He _should_ be with him to have this talk, and Dean and Cas too. He really hoped the demon was all right after the beating he took from Asmodeus.

The Prince of Hell took a seat in Sam's chair and the guards shoved him forward into the chair on the other side of the desk. Sam sat heavily and glowered across at Asmodeus.

"You wanted to talk terms, so let's talk," the demon drawled, leaning back in his chair as if already bored.

Sam leaned forward. "I'm not talking any terms until you agree to honor anything we settle on."

Asmodeus sighed and leaned forward as well, setting his elbows on the desk and stared at him fully. "Despite everything, you do intrigue me, Sam Winchester. A human hunter, puny in the sight of one like myself, and yet, you and your brother both seem to have the luck of the devil, if you'll pardon the phrase. You took down my brothers and sister, and Lucifer himself. I thought my job would be done as soon as I broke the Shedim loose, but you survived that as well."

Sam's face hardened. He'd put it together already, of course, but having Asmodeus confirm that he had been the one to come in and break the seal keeping the Shedim locked up in Pandemonium just made him more furious. "Yeah, well, I don't die so easy."

"No, you do not," Asmodeus said darkly. "Which is why I've decided it's pointless to kill you. That's been the mistake of many of my peers and that's where they run into trouble. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to just get rid of you, but seeing you here now, makes me realize…what's the fun in all of that, when I can break you instead?"

Sam raised his head defiantly. "Go ahead. Lucifer couldn't do it, so what makes you think you can?"

Asmodeus chuckled and it was not a nice sound. "Oh, I've broken bigger than you, boy, believe me. And as you so kindly reminded me, I have all the pieces in this game. You're already check-mated, Winchester. I just haven't toppled your piece yet."

"You agreed to talk terms," Sam said sharply.

"And we've talked about terms," Asmodeus said. "That's it. There are none. Not for you. You, Sam Winchester are going to just sit back and watch while I tear your kingdom down around you, while I break you little by little, until you finally kneel to me on your own accord. That's my ultimate goal."

Sam finally realized what he wanted. He swallowed hard. "So that's it? You want me as your lacky? Together we can rule the galaxy and all that?"

Asmodeus snorted. "Not as such. Azazel, my brother, thought you had potential. He tried to make you into a general and you let that go a long time ago. Just because you happened to become King of Hell, doesn't mean you're cut out for the job. You'd have no powers at all if it wasn't for that contract you signed."

"Then what?" Sam demanded, getting really tired of this conversation.

Asmodeus stood up and began to pace. "Did you know that I'm a collector, Mr. Winchester? Of all kinds of things. Some things I like to have around me, and some things that might be useful to me. And some things…" He stopped right behind Sam's chair and loomed over him. "...That will show how powerful I am."

Sam shuddered despite himself.

"You are quite the prize among the supernatural community," Asmodeus said. "I have plans to branch out, gather more than just demons on my side when I make my empire. And everywhere I go, if I have a Winchester on a leash, who heels when I tell him to heel, why, then I have instant respect and fear on my side. And a Winchester who was also the former King of Hell…well, the bragging rights for a claim like that can't even be measured."

Sam took a deep breath, trying to steady the feeling of dread that was seeping through him.

"So you see, Mr. Winchester, there are no terms for you. You can fight and watch everyone, everything you care about be taken away from you, or you can submit now. _Those_ are my terms."

Sam shook his head slowly, helpless fury boiling up inside of him. "You bastard. If you think I will—"

"Don't bother saying something like that until you know what I'm capable of doing," Asmodeus cut in. "Now." He clapped his hands and nodded to the guards. "Bring Mr. Winchester back to his cell. Our discussion is done for today."

Without another word, Sam was dragged from the chair and hauled out of his own office back toward Tartarus.

He should have known better than to try and treat with a demon, especially one as powerful as Asmodeus.

He hadn't felt this helpless in a long time.

_~~~~~~~_

_Wheatly slumped in the cell,_ feeling his insides knit back together slowly over the hours. Winston was pacing, unable to stand still and it was beginning to really irritate him.

"Would you sit down? It's not going to do any good," he snapped finally.

The captain glanced over at him, but at least he stopped moving. "What are we going to do? You saw what happened, the king can't fight Asmodeus alone. He'll need all of the help he can get."

"Yes, and I've been thinking about how we can do that while you've been playing a caged tiger," Wheatly said, then sighed, shifting to sit straighter and gritting his teeth as he realized his body still wasn't back to normal. "I've been thinking that with the right leverage, we can sway the demons who defected. At least some of them. I have a feeling that soon enough some of the others are going to start realizing that they made a mistake following a Prince of Hell with Asmodeus's propensity for snaps of anger."

"And how will we sway them if we're stuck in here?" Winston demanded.

"I'm thinking of finding a way out of here," Wheatly said simply. "And when we do, there's a whole vault of weapons that will help His Majesty fight off the usurper."

Winston raised an eyebrow but nodded slowly. "And how are you going to get out of here, then?"

"I," Wheatly said, shifting to sit up straighter despite the pain. "Am going to defect."


	4. Chapter 4

Sam was thrown back into the cell in Tartarus, hopeless fury washing through him.

"Well?" Dean demanded. "Did he hear your terms?"

Sam shook his head, leaning back against the wall to face his brother and Cas. "No. he knows well enough that he holds all the cards. He says I have nothing to bargain with. That he only wants to keep us alive as some sort of social status."

Cas nodded slowly. "That would make sense. From what Wheatly told us, Asmodeus was always the weakest of the Princes. Now that he has some unknown power, and is the last of them, he has everything to prove and no one to stop him."

"Well, that sure as hell is not gonna work for me," Dean growled. "I'm not gonna sit around and be some demon's trophy."

"Me either," Sam said, glancing out into the corridor as one of the demons passed, dragging a pleading soul with it. He shuddered. "However, if what Asmodeus wants is my spirit, he's gonna have to work for it, probably let me out of this prison to see what he's doing with my kingdom. I may be able to reach Wheatly and the others or at least get a message to them. If we can get enough of us together and ready, then we might be able to rise up and get Asmodeus out of here."

"And take the throne back." Dean nodded. "You think we have a chance of taking him on together, all three of us?" he looked between Sam and Cas.

The angel pursed his lips. "Honestly? We still don't know his full power. We may need assistance. But…" he glanced sideways at Sam, "We do have a vault full of magical weapons and artifacts."

A bit of hope flared in Sam's chest at that. "Yeah, we do. We must have something there that can help us."

"The only problem is getting it," Dean said and sighed. "If only we had that supernaturally powered grenade launcher right now."

Sam sighed and turned a baleful look at Cas who rolled his eyes. He had been hoping Dean wouldn't find that. But, well, if it helped them defeat Asmodeus, then his brother could have all the fun he wanted. Providing he didn't take out half their kingdom along with the yellow-eyed demon. They still hadn't repaired that hole in the bunker that the regular grenade launcher had made when they'd been trapped in there by Arthur Ketch.

He slumped against the wall and reached up to rub his eyes. How could things just continue to go so wrong?

"Sam, you should get some rest, we can't do any more right now," Cas urged.

Sam wanted to protest, but knew he had to keep his strength up, and his shoulder was hurting. He propped himself into the corner and closed his eyes, somehow falling into a light sleep, his body obviously more exhausted than he had thought.

He was woken an indeterminate time later to someone's hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.

"What is it?" he asked, fighting the weariness from his bones.

"Someone's coming," Dean told him, watching the barred door anxiously.

Two of Asmodeus's guards stopped in front of the door and opened it up, wordlessly stepping inside to grab Sam and haul him to his feet. Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam shook his head. They didn't need to provoke the other demons more than they already had. Not if Sam wanted their plan to work.

He allowed himself to be led toward the archives where Asmodeus was currently sorting through stacks of books and scrolls that he had taken out and spread all over the room. Sam pressed his lips into a thin line. He and Wheatly had spent a lot of time organizing those records.

"Ah, Samuel," Asmodeus said as Sam was dropped into a chair and flanked by the guards, an obvious warning not to get up.

"What do you want from me now?" Sam asked him.

The demon raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were the one who was so eager to talk before?"

Sam clenched his jaw and didn't say anything.

"You've got quite an extensive library here—far more so than when I was last in Hell," Asmodeus said, opening a large record book and flipping through it. "Been catching up on some of the things I missed. Amazing how much turmoil Hell has been through the past few years since Lilith and Azazel were…disposed of."

"Yeah, well, a lot has changed," Sam said. "But before you came, my brother and I were trying to put it back into some sort of semblance."

"Hm," Asmodeus hummed, unimpressed, and tossed the tome down on the table, knocking several scrolls carelessly to the ground. "That what you call it? I think we can agree your good intentions got you nowhere. This is Hell after all. Unlike the road to Hell, the place itself is built on the exact opposite of good intentions."

Sam nearly snorted. He wasn't wrong, and it wasn't like Sam and Dean hadn't seen the irony of their attempts before. They were just mostly shocked that, despite a few hiccups, their tactics had worked.

"Now, to the reason I got you out of your cell," Asmodeus told him and nodded to his guards again. "Let's take Mr. Winchester to the throne room. He'll be my guest for tonight's entertainment."

Sam looked up, a furrow in his brow, not liking the sound of that at all. "Entertainment? What entertainment?"

Asmodeus ignored him, but held his gaze as he gave one of the guards another command. "Mr. Jeffrey. Go fetch the steward and the angel."

The demon nodded and left the room.

Sam, his heart in his throat, was hauled from his seat and taken to the throne room where he found that most of the court that wasn't locked up were gathered, standing around a circle that had been drawn on the floor, talking eagerly amongst each other. Sam had no idea what was going on here, and how Cas and Wheatly would be involved, but he was pretty sure he didn't want to know.

The demons looked up as he came in, and most stared at him in derision, but a few looked uncomfortable that they had been caught by him consorting with the other demons. Good, Sam thought. Some of them might still be swayed back to his side.

Sam was shoved into a chair that had been set to one side of the throne. Asmodeus took the throne itself and lounged back, all too comfortable, or at least pretending to be so. The throne wasn't exactly a Lazy Boy.

"What the hell is this?" Sam demanded.

"A little proving ground, so to speak," Asmodeus told him, reaching up to stroke his beard as he stared out at the crowd. "I think you'll understand soon enough."

Sam didn't like the sound of that, and he didn't have long to wait before he found out what Asmodeus had planned.

Murmurs started through the crowd and Asmodeus's guards pushed through, leading Cas and Wheatly who both looked less than pleased at being manhandled.

The steward looked more disheveled than Sam had ever seen him, his hair hanging into his eyes, shirt untucked and ripped, and bowtie completely gone, but he was glad to see Wheatly seemed to have recovered after the beating he took.

Both the demon and Cas were brought before the throne, glowering up at Asmodeus who leaned forward.

"Well, the fallen steward and the Mr. Winchester's attack dog," Asmodeus said mockingly. "Quite the pair."

He stood and walked down to stand in front of them. "The angel, now, I know you'll never sway." He passed Cas and went to Wheatly, reaching out to grip his chin, forcing the smaller demon to look at him. "You, on the other hand, have every reason to join me."

Wheatly glowered, and looked like he wanted to pull away, but didn't protest. Sam watched him as the steward's eyes glanced down almost regretfully. He frowned. That wasn't like his steward at all. Was Wheatly already having second thoughts?

"So, I'll give you a choice," Asmodeus said. "You and the angel fight. If you put the angel on the ground, then I'll let you be my new steward. You'll serve me and forget about the former pretender king, and I'll give you all the benefits that went with your own job. If you refuse, then I'll use you for our entertainment every night until you don't make it out of the ring. So how good of a fighter are you, Mr. Wheatly?"

"Passable," the steward said simply.

"Good enough to beat an angel?" Asmodeus raised an eyebrow.

Sam watched, tense, not sure how he even wanted this to go down. Cas was also watching the demon tensely, calculating.

Wheatly stayed silent for a long moment, then raised his head, and met Asmodeus's eyes. "Fine. I'll do it."

"You…" Cas growled but cut himself off, simply shaking his head, disgust washing over him.

Sam felt his heart sink. He didn't want to believe Wheatly was actually defecting, especially after the scene he had put on when Asmodeus arrived.

And yet, he _was_ a demon. Maybe Sam should never had put his trust in him so much to begin with.

"Glad to hear it," Asmodeus said, clapping the smaller demon on the shoulder. "Now you put that angel on the ground, by whatever means necessary, you hear me?"

Wheatly nodded and glanced over at Cas as he said, "Yes. I hear you."

The guards dragged them both to the circle and the demons hemmed them in so they couldn't run. Sam clutched the arms of the chair as he watched tensely. Worried for Cas, for all of them.

Asmodeus climbed back onto the dais and sat down. "There, you see, Samuel? Your most loyal are already starting to turn against you. You can't tell me that doesn't hurt."

Sam looked away, jaw clenched as he gazed toward the fight about to happen, wishing he didn't have to watch the outcome.

_~~~~~~~_

_Castiel glowered_ at Wheatly across the circle.

"How dare you?" he growled under his breath. "I thought you were loyal."

"Times change, angel," Wheatly told him with a look Castiel wasn't quite sure how to read. The demon held his gaze for a few moments before he seemed to sigh in exasperation as if Castiel was missing something.

One of the guards stepped into the ring. "The fight will last until one contender is dead or unable to get up," he said, raising a hand. He stepped back as he dropped his hand and Castiel and Wheatly both stepped forward, fists raised and ready to fight.

"Come on, angel, let's make this look good," Wheatly muttered under his breath.

"Oh, don't worry. I will," Castiel growled and slammed his fist into the demon's face.

Wheatly staggered back, blood dripping from his nose, actually looking shocked, before he lunged forward and traded several more blows, one getting past Castiel's defenses and landing heavily against his ribs.

The angel huffed, taking a step back, and returned the blow with several more.

This time, Wheatly dodged neatly. The demon was good, Castiel had to give him that, but then, he had known that. It had been one of the reasons he'd been glad that the steward was there, so there was another being watching Sam and Dean's backs.

Until the demon decided to turn traitor, that is. And after everything they had already been through.

Castiel threw a furious punch, that clipped Wheatly's shoulder. The demon grunted, almost in indignation, and lunged forward, inside Castiel's longer reach, slamming a fist into his stomach and kicking his legs out from under him. Castiel landed heavily on the ground and Wheatly lashed out, kicking him in the jaw.

Castiel turned his head to soften the blow, but he still saw stars. He rolled, coming up into a grapple as Wheatly met him. Castiel kicked, and Wheatly blocked him with a leg, then grabbed the fist Castiel sent flying toward his face.

The demon ducked in close as they grappled, mouth close to Castiel's ear.

"Would you just go down, angel?" he hissed, the roaring of the crowd keeping the gathered demons from hearing. "I'm not an enemy, I have a plan. But unfortunately, it involves you losing."

Castiel disengaged, and frowned, studying the demon as they circled. "What?" he demanded.

Wheatly rolled his eyes. "Playing double agent. How else am I supposed to help His Majesty?"

Castiel exhaled in realization and grudgingly felt bad for doubting the doughty steward.

"Well, angel? Make it look good," Wheatly repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Castiel gave a small nod, annoyed at having to take the fall, but knowing it was for the best. He lunged at the demon and Wheatly sidestepped. They traded several blows, Castiel landing more blows but pulling his punches this time, Wheatly doing the same.

Then the demon gave a nod, and drove a fist into Castiel's face. It looked harder to the crowd than it was since Castiel jerked back, falling to one knee. Wheatly delivered several more deceptively punishing blows down on Castiel and the angel collapsed, staying still as the crowd roared above him.

He huffed to himself. Next time, Wheatly was the one who was going to take the fall.

"Well, you've proved yourself admirable, Mr. Wheatly," Asmodeus said as two guards stepped into the ring and dragged Castiel up to his feet again. "It looks like you've regained your position as Steward."

Wheatly wiped some blood away from the corner of his mouth, and nodded. "Just tell me what you want me to do. My lord."

Castiel seemed to be the only one who detected a slight sneer in his voice as Wheatly addressed Asmodeus with the honorific, and how he glanced over the Prince of Hell's shoulder toward where Sam was sitting on the dais.

"Eager, are you? Soon, Mr. Wheatly, soon," Asmodeus said, then turned back to Sam as the demons started to disperse. "Well, look at that, Samuel. One of your most trusted turning against you just like that." He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "Makes you wonder, doesn't it? How many others do you think I can turn before the week is out?"

Sam's face was dark and Asmodeus was pleased. Wheatly stood impassively off to one side, hands clasped behind him, just watching.

"Take them back to the cell," Asmodeus told the guards.

More demons went to grab Sam and then he and Castiel were taken back to Tartarus.

Dean was up and pacing the cell, limping slightly, but obviously with too much nervous energy to sit still. Relief washed over him as he saw both Sam and Castiel again.

They were thrown into the cell and Dean looked them over, seeing the bruises and blood on Castiel's face.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded.

"Wheatly," Castiel grunted.

"Wheatly? Why?"

"Asmodeus made them fight," Sam said bitterly, jaw tight. "Said he'd give Wheatly his position back if he won."

"And _Wheatly_ took the offer?" Dean asked, unbelieving.

Sam looked away, swallowing hard.

"No, he didn't," Castiel finally said, now that the guards were far enough away. "He told me to rig the fight. He did it to have freedom of movement. He's planning something."

Sam's shoulders slumped in relief and a small smile flitted across his lips. "That's more like the Wheatly I know. I feel bad for suspecting him now."

"We all did," Castiel said comfortingly. "I still don't think we're entirely ready to trust demons."

"Some of them you can trust, though," Sam said.

Castiel sat down, back in the corner of the cell, and looked up at Dean who was still pacing. He sighed wearily. "Dean, sit down, you're not helping your injuries."

"I'm fine, they're better," Dean said, but after a couple more passes, finally sat down next to Sam. "So what's the play? Think Wheatly can get us something that can give Evil Colonel Sanders something to think about?"

"I'm sure he's got something up his sleeve," Sam mused. "We can't really do much to help in here though."

"No," Dean said with a sigh, tipping his head back against the wall. "But when the time comes, we'll be ready."

_~~~~~~~_

_Asmodeus looked up_ as the steward entered the office, accompanied by guards. He had cleaned himself up, putting on a fresh suit, and bowed slightly to the Prince of Hell.

"My lord," he said stiffly.

Asmodeus watched him for a moment. He wasn't entirely sure the demon was being sincere or not, but yet, demons rarely were. And if Wheatly was playing him, he thought it would be better to keep him close. Easier to keep an eye on him.

"Well, Mr. Wheatly, glad to be back?"

The demon nodded. "Yes, sir."

"That's 'your majesty', Mr. Wheatly," Asmodeus reminded him, darkly.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Wheatly said.

Asmodeus leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him. "I want you to serve me in the capacity you did the Winchesters, but first, I want you to tell me everything you know about them. Anything that I might be able to use against them."

"I will do my best, my lord," Wheatly told him.

"Good," Asmodeus said and nodded to the desk in the corner as he stood up. "Write down anything you think might be useful and we'll discuss it tomorrow." He left with his guards and glanced around at the demons who bowed as he passed them. He smirked to himself. He already held more sway than Sam Winchester probably ever had.

But all the use of his powers the last few days had left him feeling a little worn down and he'd run out of his extra stash of mojo. It had been fortunate that the Winchesters' pet halo was hanging around Hell with them. Angels had been hard to come by since they locked themselves back up into Heaven. The Fall had been the best thing that had happened to Asmodeus.

It wouldn't be archangel's grace, but he would make do.

"Mr. Cyrus," he said to one of his demon guards. "Go bring me the angel."

The demon nodded and headed off.

Asmodeus smiled in anticipation. Yes, things were all going quite smoothly so far.


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel stared up at the ceiling of the cell. He hated being locked up, hated doing nothing. Hated waiting on other people, especially demons. While he trusted Wheatly as much as he could trust any demon, he couldn't help but wish that he was out there helping with the escape plan. He felt useless in here and Castiel wasn't good at feeling useless.

But neither were Sam and Dean, both of them just as restless as he felt.

When the guards came, it was almost a relief. At least it was something to focus on, even though it was most certainly not going to be good.

They all stood as the door to the cell was unlocked and Castiel and Dean moved protectively toward Sam, sure he was the one they had come for.

However, the demon stepped inside and grabbed Castiel's arm instead, pulling him out of the cell and slamming the door before the Winchesters could fight back.

"Hey, where are you taking him?" Dean demanded.

"I'll be fine," Castiel growled as he was shoved against the wall while sigiled cuffs were snapped around his wrists. He could sense Sam and Dean seething as he was dragged away, but there was nothing he could do. He only hoped it was just for another fight.

However, his heart sank as he was dragged into the throne room and saw that Asmodeus was there alone. There were no crowds around the ring drawn on the floor.

"Thank you, Mr. Cyrus, you can go," the Prince of Hell said as he rose from his throne and came down the steps of the dais toward Castiel.

The angel stood his ground, wary, watching as the demon walked slowly around him, eyes searching his disheveled form.

"You know, Castiel, angels have been very hard to find since you've gone and locked yourselves away back in Heaven."

"What do you want, Asmodeus?" Castiel asked darkly, not in the mood for small talk.

The demon reappeared in front of him. "I want what I've always wanted. Power. And I'll do what I always have: take it."

Castiel was too slow to avoid the fist that slammed into his jaw. He staggered and the blow was followed up by a punishing knee in his ribs. He wheezed, falling to the ground where more blows were hammered into him and he was unable to fight back due to his hands being manacled behind his back. Asmodeus was indeed strong. Castiel kicked out at him and caught him in the knee, but that only enraged the demon more and he slammed his foot into Castiel's face.

The angel sprawled on the ground, only half conscious. His face and ribs throbbed, and he could only struggle weakly as he felt Asmodeus grab him by the collar of his shirt and drag him over to the throne. He heard the clank of chain and opened his eyes in time to see Asmodeus attaching one end of the chain to his manacles and the other to the throne. Castiel pulled at it weakly and tried to force himself into a sitting position. He managed to get up enough to lean against the throne, spitting a gob of blood out of his mouth and blinking more from his eye.

Asmodeus had moved away and was fiddling with something in a small metal box. Castiel didn't see what it was until the demon turned back around and then the angel's mouth went dry.

It was a familiar implement; he'd used one like it to extract Gadreel's excess grace from Sam to perform that tracking spell. Castiel didn't want to think of what Asmodeus was planning on using it for now.

"Lucifer always made sure to remind me that I was his weakest creation," Asmodeus said casually. He reached up and traced the scars on his face. "Punished me when I tried to prove myself. So, when I left Hell, I was determined to find a way to make sure that wasn't the case. I searched for a long time to find something that would make me strong, and then, finally, I found the secret formula." He tapped the syringe. "Who would have known that angelic grace would be something a demon would be able to use as a power up?"

Horror washed over Castiel with the realization. So that was how he had gotten so powerful.

"No, don't," Castiel growled at Asmodeus as he approached. He yanked on the chains, but with his powers subdued by the sigils, he wasn't strong enough to break them.

Asmodeus chuckled. "Don't? Why, angel, you belong to me, now. Sam Winchester needs a reminder that I hold all the cards so he doesn't get too comfortable, and I need a power up. All the stores I had collected when angels were easy pickings during the Fall have run out. Archangel is my preferred vintage, of course, but you'll do in a pinch."

"Don't!" Castiel shouted again, as Asmodeus reached out and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head to one side. Castiel struggled but the demon slammed his head against the side of the throne. Castiel, dazed, went limp, and wasn't able to fight before the needle was jammed into his neck.

He cried out as he felt Asmodeus pull back on the plunger, his grace slowly being extracted. The agony was horrible, like fire through his veins. Like a piece of himself being cut out.

By the time he finished, Asmodeus had pulled a whole syringe's worth of grace from Castiel and the angel was slumped against the throne, panting heavily.

He could only watch as Asmodeus set up little glass vials on a table on one side of the room and began to fill them with the grace. Once he was done, he picked one up and put it into another contraption. He took off his coat, and rolled up one sleeve, then, to Castiel's horror, he injected the grace into his veins with a contented sigh.

"You think that will make you stronger," he rasped, voice hoarse from screaming. "Sam Winchester will still beat you. He's still the King of Hell."

"Might be a little hard, considering you're currently tied to _my_ throne like a dog," Asmodeus said. "Of course, that was what you always were, wasn't it? Just the Winchesters' loyal hound."

Castiel glowered at him. "If you think you can beat me this easily, you're wrong. After all, Lucifer never could, so what makes you think _you_ can?"

He knew he had struck a nerve when something darkened in Asmodeus's face and the Prince of Hell slammed the contraption he had been holding back into its box, closing the lid.

"You have a smart tongue on you—typical angel. You'll be a good item to show off my power, but I see I'm going to have to muzzle you like I did with the Winchesters' favorite hellhound."

He snapped his fingers and the demon guard reappeared.

"Mr. Cyrus, bring me needle and thread," Asmodeus said.

Castiel frowned, not sure what the Prince of Hell was planning on doing with it. But when Cyrus came back and handed the items to Asmodeus, the Prince of Hell turned to Castiel with a cruel, satisfied smirk. "Hold him," he told his guard.

Cyrus came behind Castiel and grabbed him, one hand under his chin, the other across his forehead, wrenching his head back and holding him still. Castiel struggled and growled as Asmodeus threaded the needle and approached.

"Hold still—this will be a lot less painful if you do."

Castiel's eyes widened as he finally realized what was happening. He fought, nearly threw Cyrus back, but the demon held on, locking an arm across Castiel's throat, nearly chocking him as he continued to struggle.

But in the end, he was never going to get away. Asmodeus gripped his jaw and, with a satisfied smirk, made the first stitch.

_~~~~~~~_

_Wheatly finished the paperwork_ , writing a bunch of BS about the Winchesters and their regime. Hopefully Asmodeus would buy it long enough for him to enact his plan.

First of all, he would need a way to pass information to the Winchesters.

He found it soon enough.

A familiar demon was walking down the hallway toward him, and no one else was around. Perfect.

Wheatly lunged toward the demon, slamming him against the wall, and barring an arm across his throat.

"Brian," he sniffed. "What the hell are you doing betraying the king?"

The other demon struggled, eyes darting around. "I—I don't know, Wheatly. It just…I didn't want to die. I was scared."

Wheatly sneered at him, shoving him harder as Brian whimpered. "I never took you for a coward. Are you happy with your decision?"

Brian pressed his lips together but looked down, not saying anything until finally, "Asmodeus is unpredictable. His guards are everywhere. Watching us."

Wheatly eased up a little. "Of course he is, you idiot. Even Lucifer thought he was a loose cannon."

"But I don't understand, sir, I thought you were…" Brian trailed off as Wheatly gave him a look. "Oh."

"Yes, and if you let this slip, I'll run my spear through you," Wheatly said simply, finally releasing the demon and stepping back, straightening his suit coat. "I need a messenger. Someone who can get to His Majesty in Tartarus. I'll get you on duty to bring food to them."

Brian paled and started to shake his head when Wheatly gripped his shoulder. Tightly. Brian winced.

"You'll help me," Wheatly said in no uncertain terms. "You'll help the real king, or I'll tell Master Winchester that you're a traitor. You know there will be an inquisition when this is over, and the Knight of Hell will deal with anyone who sided with Asmodeus appropriately. Just like all the other traitors."

Brian paled even more and swallowed hard, but he nodded. "Okay. I'll do it. What do I need to do?"

"Nothing yet," Wheatly said. "But soon, I'll have something for you to bring them. You'll be available when I need you."

Brian nodded again, and Wheatly allowed him to go on his way. He really hoped the boy wouldn't tattle. But he figured that the wrath of Dean Winchester was probably enough to deter any demon with half a brain from doing anything.

The problem was there weren't many demons that had even half a brain, and all the ones who did were locked up in the cells.

Except maybe one other.

Wheatly made his way to the hellhound kennels and looked around. He spotted Juliet first, and fury washed through him. She was chained in a small cage, barely big enough for her to curl up in, and a muzzle was fixed around her snout. She looked up when she saw him, tail flipping slightly, eyes pleading. Wheatly crouched and reached through the cage to scratch her head when a step sounded behind him.

He turned.

"Sean," he said.

"Wheatly," the other demon replied warily, his stance indicating the wish to reach for a weapon.

Wheatly huffed. "Don't look at me like that. I'm doing what I have to do. But I know you're loyal to our true king, and I need your help."

Sean relaxed and moved closer, reaching through Juliet's cage to scratch behind her ears. "What is your plan?"

"I'm planning to find something in the vaults to fight Asmodeus with. I'll handle getting the Winchesters out of their cell, but I'll need someone to release the other prisoners."

"When?" Sean asked eagerly.

"Soon, we don't have much choice in the matter," Wheatly said, glancing around even now. "Asmodeus has eyes and ears everywhere. The longer I play this ruse, the more chance I have of being found out."

Sean nodded. "I'll do whatever you need."

"Good. I'll work on getting keys and such. When we do this, it's going to happen fast, we're not going to give Asmodeus much chance to fight back. That's the only way we'll win."

"I'll be ready," Sean promised.

Wheatly nodded and left the kennels to go find Asmodeus before the demon started looking for him again.

He needed to start collecting the appropriate items for the fight to come.

_~~~~~~~_

_Sam and Dean waited anxiously_. Dean started pacing again and Sam didn't even bother to stop him. He did not like that Asmodeus had taken Cas. Alone. Whatever he was doing with the angel couldn't be good, and it had been too long. Hours now, since Cas had been taken.

"This is bullshit," Dean muttered finally. "What the hell did they take Cas for?"

"I don't know," Sam said quietly.

Footsteps sounded out in the hallway and Sam was on his feet now too, tense.

However, it was only a single demon and not even one of Asmodeus's usual guards. He had a tray of food.

Sam's stomach twisted at the thought of eating. They hadn't been fed more than once a day as far as he could recon, but with the uncertainty of their position, he couldn't even consider putting food in his mouth.

The demon shoved the tray through a slot at the bottom of the door and Sam and Dean stepped up to the bars.

"Brian," Sam said and the demon flinched slightly, glancing up sheepishly. Sam wanted to snort. The demon probably hadn't really wanted to defect to Asmodeus's side, he just didn't have the guts not to. He was just a footman who usually did tasks for Wheatly and was not one known for his bravery.

"Your food," Brian said, wringing his hands, looking around as if he were worried to be seen. He looked like he was about to bolt.

Dean reached through the bars swiftly and grabbed the front of his shirt. Brian yelped as he was yanked against the bars, face pressed between them almost comically.

"Not yet, you little bastard," Dean growled. "You know what happened to Cas?"

Brian licked his lips and shook his head. "N-no, I didn't know he wasn't here."

Sam put a hand on Dean's arm and his brother reluctantly loosened his grip though didn't let go of Brian entirely. "Look, we're just worried. Asmodeus took him, and we just want to know what happened."

"Well, I don't know. Your Majesty," Brian added, biting his lip. Dean finally let him go and he stepped away quickly. He glanced down at the tray of food. "Wheatly sends his regards." And then he was off, racing back down the hallway and out of Tartarus.

"What the hell was that about?" Dean muttered but Sam was already kneeling beside the tray, practically tossing aside one of the plates.

"Dude, that's our lunch," Dean said, but stopped when he saw a paper in Sam's hand.

Sam's breath caught in his throat as he opened it and then exhaled in relief. "It's from Wheatly. He says he's got a plan. Getting something out of the vault."

"A weapon," Dean nodded.

"Yeah." Sam tore the paper up small and rolled it into balls which he scattered into the stone cracks of the cell. "He said to be ready. He's hoping to make a move in the next couple days."

"Well, we don't have anything else to do," Dean said and sat back down.

They ate in silence and then tried to rest, though without knowing what had happened to Cas, they couldn't. The only thing comforting Sam right now was that he was pretty sure Asmodeus wouldn't kill the angel unless he had Sam watching. Considering everything that could happen between life and death, however, that wasn't much of a comfort.

It wasn't until the next day that a guard came for Sam. He allowed himself to be led to Hell Proper as Dean stayed behind, worriedly watching from the cell. Sam could see the helplessness in Dean's eyes, and really hoped that Wheatly found what they needed soon. He hated that he wasn't able to offer his steward more aid, but he knew he would have his part to play soon enough.

Sam was led into the throne room and saw Asmodeus's back turned to him. He had his sleeves rolled up and was bent over something on the table. Sam glanced up and saw Wheatly standing beside the throne, hands clasped behind him and back straight. He met Sam's gaze briefly, an almost apologetic look in his eyes, and Sam nodded back, acknowledging that he had gotten his message. Wheatly's shoulders slumped a little, and his pale face took on a little more color, even though his eyes slid surreptitiously toward Asmodeus.

That was when Sam caught sight of what the demon was actually doing. He had some sort of syringe and was injecting himself with some kind of glowing liquid…

Sam's heart was instantly in his throat and he felt like he was going to be sick as he recognized the suddenly all too familiar substance.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, fury making him shake.

Asmodeus turned around, a slight look of annoyance on his face as he set the syringe aside. "You're in no position to question me, boy. I thought I made myself clear."

"Where did you get that angel grace?" Sam asked, voice dark.

Asmodeus had the audacity to smirk. "Where do you think? Thought I'd put your pet angel to some good use."

He walked over to the other side of the throne and reached down. There was a rattle of chains and a muffled grunt and Cas was pulled into Sam's sight.

Sam felt his heart freeze in his chest.

Cas was chained on his knees, hands behind him, trapped in sigiled cuffs. His shirt was untucked and his tie more askew than usual, both spotted with blood.

But the worst part—the worst part was his mouth. Stark black stitches held his lips together in a horrifying gag. Cas' blue eyes held both terror and fury as he looked up at Sam, blinking as he swayed.

Sam lost it.

"You son of a bitch!" Sam cried, rushing forward before the demon guards grabbed his arms and hauled him back. He struggled, but Asmodeus waved a hand and Sam felt himself stuck to the spot, once again straining against the Prince of Hell's power.

"Yes, this is my new juice box," Asmodeus said with a smirk, grabbing a fistful of Cas' hair and yanking his head up. "When I invite my guests here to make peace treaties with me, he'll be the first thing they see when they bow to me before my throne—a conquered angel, only here for my personal use. Think anyone would dare cross me?"

Sam saw Wheatly look away with thinly veiled disgust in his eyes and he was helpless to even move, let alone help Cas.

"Cas, I swear, I'll get you out of here," Sam said, ignoring Asmodeus. "I swear."

Cas met his eyes but Sam couldn't tell whether the angel believed him or not. He knew they had a plan in the works. That would have to be good enough for now. Even though all Sam wanted to do was rip Asmodeus apart.

"Get him out of here, he's too hot-headed right now to have a civil conversation," Asmodeus flicked his fingers and released Sam from his hold. The demons hauled him out of the room as Sam fought, trying to keep Cas in his sight for as long as possible.

As he was dragged further down the corridor, he couldn't take it anymore.

His eyes snapped to black as he summoned his powers. He might not be able to manipulate Asmodeus, but his guards were just regular demons.

They let out shocked cries as they were suddenly flung into the opposite walls, losing their grip on Sam entirely. Sam simply clenched his fists and burned them out. He felt a slight ache behind his eyes after doing so but didn't care. He had to get to Cas. He couldn't leave his brother like that.

More guards came at him, hearing the commotion and Sam used his powers against them too. But more were coming, and though he was a lot stronger than he had been, some of them were bound to get past his defenses. Sam just wasn't sure he cared all that much at the moment.

"Enough."

Sam felt himself slammed into a wall by an invisible force and collapsed on the ground on his hands and knees, gasping.

White shoes strode toward him and before he could get to his feet, Asmodeus reached down and grabbed him by the throat, hauling him upright and slamming him back against the wall, feet off the ground.

Sam clutched at the demon's hands, choking as Asmodeus squeezed threateningly.

"How dare you attack my guards?" he demanded. "I thought we had an understanding."

Sam growled. "You never made…a deal," he choked out, kicking out to no avail. Asmodeus simply squeezed harder, causing Sam to gasp for breath.

"You'll be punished for your disobedience, mark my words." Asmodeus finally lowered him and grabbed a fistful of his hair instead, using it to drag Sam back down the hallway toward Tartarus. "Yes, I must punish you severely. And believe me, you'll be sorry, boy."

Sam's heart leapt into his throat for a moment as he stumbled along. He wasn't stupid enough to think that Asmodeus would take it out on him. No. He'd take it out on Cas, probably. Sam felt fear overcome him as he wondered if his stupid, passionate failed rescue might have doomed Cas to even further torment.

But Asmodeus was still heading toward Tartarus, not back to the throne room. They got to the cell block and the door to the cell Sam and Dean were staying in was opened. Dean looked instantly wary when he saw Asmodeus holding Sam by the hair. The Prince of Hell threw Sam into the cell where he collapsed to his hands and knees.

"Sammy, what the hell?" Dean demanded, then started when guards seized him. "Hey…what? Get off!"

"Take him," Asmodeus sneered, looking at Sam as he said it.

Sam scrambled to his feet, just as Dean was yanked out of the cell and the door slammed behind him. Sam latched onto the bars. "Where are you taking him?" He demanded as Asmodeus simply smirked. "Asmodeus! Dammit, where are you taking him?"

"Sammy, calm down," Dean tried to say, though Sam could tell he was also nervous.

"You act brave now, boy, but just you wait until you find out what's in store for you," Asmodeus said, addressing Dean, but watching Sam. "Your little brother has tried my patience one too many times and he has to suffer for it. Meaning, of course, that you have to suffer for it." He turned back to Dean finally as Sam's brother strained in the demons' grip. He reached out and gripped Dean by the chin, looking him up and down. "I think Tartarus has missed you, son. Why don't we have a reunion of sorts? Alastair's old rack has been empty for a long, long time."

"No!" Sam shouted at the same time he saw Dean's legs turn to water, sagging in the demons' grasp. Sam yanked on the bars. "Asmodeus, don't! Torture _me_! It was my fault!"

Asmodeus smirked at him. "Oh, no, Samuel, see, that's the only term we came up with, to my understanding. That I take away everything from you. That I break you. And that will certainly happen a lot faster when it's your brother on the rack. I've heard about you Winchesters. Always so self-sacrificing for each other."

"Dean!" Sam cried, furious. He slammed his fist into the bars, knuckles bleeding. He tried to manipulate them, but of course they were warded against that. He could only watch as Dean was dragged off, cursing and struggling. Asmodeus gave Sam one last satisfied look and then followed.

And then Sam sank to the floor of the cell, completely alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean struggled the entire way. After the initial horror when he realized what was happening, his fight or flight instinct had kicked in, and Dean Winchester, the Knight of Hell, did not run. So he fought against the demon's grasp, getting in several punishing blows, getting his feet up against the wall and shoving off, trying to push them back and get free. He didn't know what he would do _after_ he got free, but that wasn't really the point at the moment. He knew he wasn't going back on that rack, and he wasn't going to leave Sam alone; the two of them and Cas all separated and at Asmodeus's mercy.

He put up a valiant effort, but the demons still held the upper hand and they dragged him toward the all too familiar domain.

The screams and crying Dean had barely been able to hear from the cell intensified and memories crashed down on him so heavily he couldn't breathe. The smell of blood and fear, and pain…it was overwhelming.

The room was set up like an open auditorium. Racks placed around the huge space, each demon with his own section, his own stage. At least that was what Alastair had treated it like. The implements of torture were everything humans had come up with, and more that couldn't even be covered by the imagination, with every surface soaked in a rusty layer of blood.

"Get off me!" Dean cried again and wrenched away. This time one of the demons simply hit him over the back of the head and he collapsed to his hands and knees, palms sticking to the floor, as they found drying, tacky pools of blood.

Asmodeus strode up and kicked Dean in the ribs, sending him crashing fully to the bloody ground.

"Where is Virgil?" the Prince of Hell demanded.

"Right here, my lord."

A demon stepped over, wiping his hands on a filthy apron. Dean glanced up at him and thought he looked slightly familiar. A tall, thin demon with the eyes of an obvious psychopath. He was watching Dean force himself onto his elbows with too much interest.

"Give whoever's on your rack to someone else; you get our high-profile prisoner," Asmodeus said as he reached down and grabbed the back of Dean's shirt, hauling him the rest of the way up. Dean struggled and received a fist to his nose. He choked as blood shot down the back of his throat.

"Remember Virgil, Dean? He's a fellow student of Alastair's," Asmodeus said. "I'm sure you'll have a good time with your little class reunion."

Dean hauled his head up and met Virgil's sneering eyes. So that was where he knew this demon from.

"Never liked teacher's pets," Virgil snarled.

"The feeling's mutual," Dean growled, spitting blood onto the ground. "You know when I get off this rack I'm gonna behead you, right? I'm gonna behead all of you! I'm the Knight of Hell and this is my kingdom!"

Asmodeus hit him again and Dean fell face first against the bloody ground, the side of his face numb from impact. He gasped, trying to scrape himself up again but he was simply yanked upright bodily by several guards and slammed onto the rack.

"No!" he cried, struggling as the manacles were locked around his wrists and ankles. "You son of a bitch! I'll kill you!"

Virgil reached for a gag, but Asmodeus stayed his hand. "No. I want his brother to hear his screams, so make sure he's good and loud."

Virgil smirked and set the gag aside, sorting through his other implements instead. "It will be done, my lord."

Asmodeus walked away, and Dean, desperate, trying to fight his trembling, crippling fear, called him back. "Asmodeus."

The Prince of Hell turned and met the Winchester's eyes which Dean turned black for effect, the action giving him a little courage.

"I promise you, that my brother and I will kill you and take our throne back. Don't sleep easy."

Asmodeus smirked. "I think that's the least of your worries right now, son." Then he strode away leaving Dean with his torturer in a place he had hoped never to see again.

_~~~~~~~_

_Wheatly paced quickly_ back and forth; it was a disgraceful act for a steward to look so agitated, but he couldn't help it at the moment. And his king wasn't around to see it, so he didn't really care.

Things had gone bad very quickly and he had to move fast. Luckily, he had Sean and Brian on standby, though he didn't put much faith into Brian if he were being honest. He was just waiting for the footman to accidently let something slip to Asmodeus.

Speaking of the yellow-eyed bastard, Asmodeus was coming back to the throne room. Wheatly instantly stood to attention and the Prince of Hell snapped at him.

"Mr. Wheatly, a drink."

Wheatly silently moved off to fetch a whisky for the demon, taking the rolling cart into the throne room. Unlike with Sam, Wheatly did not go to lengths to anticipate Asmodeus's daily needs, and he certainly didn't make pastries to go with coffee. Not that Asmodeus was interested in pastries or coffee anyway.

Asmodeus had several demons assembled in the room, ones from Hell's equivalent of HR, which was suspicious in itself, Wheatly thought.

"I'm going to be making some invitations to other parties," Asmodeus told them. "You will help me draft treaties and act as my legal team during these meetings."

Wheatly pressed his lips into a thin line as he poured a glass of whisky. So, peace talks, or whatever equivalent Asmodeus had in mind—Wheatly was sure it had nothing whatsoever to do with peace. He wondered what riffraff the Prince of Hell was planning on letting into their domain.

He glanced over at Castiel. The captive angel was slumped in his chains, propped against the side of the throne. He looked bad, pale and with a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Wheatly wasn't sure how much grace Asmodeus had taken from the angel, but he was sure it was more than he should have.

Asmodeus took a seat on the throne and reached over to run his hand mockingly across the angel's head as if he were a dog, mussing his hair. Castiel jerked away with disgust and a sound of displeasure escaped his throat. His eyes flicked open and Wheatly was glad to see some defiance left there. Castiel might still be of help to them after all.

And Wheatly would need all the help he could get.

He brought the glass over while Asmodeus was discussing the plans he had in mind, and…

He tripped on a step. The glass tumbled from his hand and splashed across the sleeve of Asmodeus's white coat.

The demon surged up with a roar, and lashed out instantly, striking Wheatly across the face.

"What is wrong with you?!"

"I—I apologize, my lord," Wheatly fumbled, pretending shame as he ducked his head. "Here, let me have the coat, I'll clean it."

Asmodeus muttered at him as Wheatly helped him off with the coat and folded it over his arm, going to set it on the cart as he grabbed a cloth, deftly slipping the ring of keys from Asmodeus's pocket at the same time.

He went back and picked up the broken glass, wiping up the mess.

Castiel watched the proceedings, having gotten splashed in the 'accident' as well. Wheatly finished with the throne and knelt to wipe up the spilled drink surrounding the angel, meeting his eyes. Castiel's were questioning and Wheatly gave a small nod, before reaching behind the angel and slipping the key to his cuffs into his hand. He set his cloth down to sop up a puddle and used it to hide the act as he slipped a small dagger under Castiel's thigh as well.

"Be ready," he hissed before he stood again. "His Majesty will need another man when he confronts the Prince."

Castiel blinked in acknowledgement and ducked his head again, effecting the posture of a prisoner who had given up, but Wheatly saw the determined set to his shoulders now, his hand clenched tightly around the key in his palm.

Wheatly stood and fetched a new glass of whisky for Asmodeus.

"Here, my lord, I'm sorry for the mess," he said, babbling like Brian would.

"Get out of my sight," Asmodeus growled, waving him off.

Wheatly refrained from smiling. That would work for him.

He left the throne room and found Sean and Brian lurking not too far away.

"Let's go. We need to act now," he told them.

The two demons nodded and followed Wheatly down the hall toward the archives.

Asmodeus had placed a guard in front of the vault, and he stood straight, challenging the three demons as they showed up. Wheatly didn't have time for him and simply reached behind him, retrieving his angel blade, which he promptly flung at the guard.

It hit the demon right in the throat, and he gasped, collapsing on his knees as he sparked out.

Wheatly straightened his suit and took the keys from his pocket. He opened the vault and they stepped inside.

"What are we looking for?" Sean asked.

"Something that can hurt a Prince of Hell," Wheatly replied, glancing around at what was to offer. He lingered on the Anti-Anomaly Portable Projectile Mortar Launcher but while that certainly had the fire power, it was big, unwieldy, and wouldn't really do much damage to a Prince of Hell.

They needed something old, and powerful.

A case at the back of the vault caught his eye.

"What is that?" Brian asked.

Wheatly opened the case and pulled the item out carefully. "Scythe of Kronos. Made of Adamantine."

"That can wound gods," Sean stated, a bit of awe in his voice.

"So it should work on a Prince of Hell," Wheatly said simply. "And if it doesn't…" He went over to a locked case with bottles and boxes in it and inserted the proper key. He reached in and pulled out a small bottle. "I saved some of the Shedim poison in case we ever needed to make another antidote. We'll coat the blade in this and then, even a nick will be a problem for Asmodeus."

"I'd say that's fair since he's the one who set those monsters free," Sean said with a set to his jaw.

"Indeed," Wheatly agreed, locking the case back up and pocketing the keys.

A shout of alarm was heard then, and the three demons looked up.

"Dammit," Wheatly breathed. "They found the guard." He shoved the scythe and the bottle of poison into Sean's hands. "There's a back door from the vault that leads directly to the prison. Go through and get Winston and the others out." He handed the keys to Brian. "Once you do that get that weapon to the King."

"But what about you?" Sean demanded.

"Someone has to distract them," Wheatly told him.

"But Asmodeus will kill you!" Brian exclaimed.

Wheatly pressed his lips together into a determined line. "If I die for my King today, then so be it. Now go!"

The others raced for the back of the vault and Wheatly slammed and locked the second door behind them.

He turned around, angel blade in hand, just in time to see guards pouring in.

"He's in here," one called over his shoulder.

Asmodeus appeared, shoving through the guards. He strode up to Wheatly who set his shoulders and stared him down.

"Mr. Wheatly," Asmodeus said slowly, shaking his head. "You have disappointed me greatly."

"I only serve the true King of Hell," Wheatly told him. "Not some riffraff prince even Lucifer rejected."

Asmodeus's face darkened and he nodded to his guards. "Bring him. I'm going to make an example of him."

Wheatly was seized, his blade thrown away, and dragged out of the vault.

But he hadn't failed. He was creating quite a good distraction. And as long as Asmodeus was occupied with making an example of him, he wouldn't be thinking about Sam and the others.

_Sean and Brian raced_ into the prison toward the cells where the loyal demons were being kept. Winston was on his feet at the bars when he saw them.

"Is it time?" he asked eagerly.

Sean nodded. "It's time."

He grinned and Brian unlocked the door. Winston stepped out and glanced down at what Sean was carrying. "Is that for the king?"

Sean nodded. Winston clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go get it to him then. Brian, you let the others out, wait outside the throne room."

Brian nodded and hurried to open the rest of the cells.

Sean and Winston rushed down the cell block and Winston grabbed a spear on his way.

"Hold on, one stop before we head to Tartarus," Sean said and turned toward the kennels.

Winston followed on his heels and Sean rushed toward the kennel Juliet was in.

She looked up at him eagerly as he fell to his knees beside her, handing the scythe to Winston as he unlocked the kennel and reached out to yank the muzzle from her snout.

"There you go, girl, it's time to get some revenge. Let's go see His Majesty."

Juliet growled and shook herself, then the two demons and the hellhound raced deeper into Hell toward Tartarus.

_~~~~~~~~_

_Sam paced the cell frantically,_ yanking at the bars and looking for any way to escape. First Cas had been taken, and now Dean was back on the rack. Sam was alone, and he was trying not to let it bother him, but he couldn't seem to think anymore. Couldn't think of anything but his brothers being tortured.

Did this mean Asmodeus had won? Had he finally started to break Sam?

He set his back against the corner of the cell and slumped toward the ground. It was only a matter of time, he knew, before he heard Dean's screams echo into the cell block. His brother would try to hide them for a while, but he wouldn't be able to. Not forever. Sam wanted to vomit.

And then a familiar bark sounded out, accompanied by the sound of pounding feet.

Sam looked up to see Juliet jumping at the bars of his cell.

"Juliet?" Sam cried, scrambling over to reach through the bars, petting her as she bumped against his hand with her nose.

"Your Majesty!"

Sam looked up to see Sean and Winston rushing down the hall. He stood up, relief flooding through him as Sean pulled the key out of his pocket and opened the door.

Juliet jumped up, paws on Sam's shoulders, and he suffered the sulfuric dog breath as she licked his face.

"Down girl," he said, but gently. "I missed you too."

"This is from Wheatly," Winston told him, handing him what looked like a rusty old scythe.

Sam frowned and took it gingerly. "Um…"

"It's the Scythe of Kronos," Sean informed him.

Sam's eyes widened. This was one of the only known things that could hurt a god; it had hamstrung Zeus for a good while, at least, if the legends were to be believed.

"And this," Sean added, reaching into his pocket. "In case it doesn't work as promised."

Sam glanced at the bottle. "What is it?"

"Shedim venom," Sean informed him. Sam glanced at it warily, but nodded, understanding.

"Where's Wheatly?" he asked.

"Distracting Asmodeus," Sean said grimly. "We need to go. Your men are waiting for you, Your Majesty."

Sam cast one glance toward the torture chamber. He wanted to get Dean out, but though it pained him, there was no time. And if Dean was hurt, he wouldn't be much help in the fight anyway.

It was better he was away from Asmodeus, even if his current condition was not ideal. It would give Sam one less person to worry about.

He turned back to the demons and nodded. "Let's go."

~~~~~~~

_Dean tried to block out_ the sensation of blades sliding through his flesh. It was not easy. There was nowhere his mind could go but here. Most of the time, he was picturing Alastair, and seeing him instead of Virgil.

"It's rare I get actual living flesh to work with," Virgil was saying as he carved a neat line across the meat of Dean's shoulder. "The blood and gore is not an illusion. It's so hot. So fresh." He leaned over and to Dean's horror, licked a dribble of blood from the side of his face.

"Get the hell off me," he growled.

"I think soon, we'll have your brother in as a guest. But not until I let him hear your screams. So, I want you to scream." Virgil met the Knight's eyes, and Dean held his gaze, unwavering. "How can I make you do that?"

Dean's face twitched, and he gathered as much spit into his dry mouth as he could and spat in the demon's face.

Virgil leaned back, waited a beat as he wiped the spit off his face, and then slashed Dean across the ribs viciously with his knife.

Dean yelped at the pain, but still refused to scream.

It wouldn't be that long, he told himself. Wheatly would be putting some kind of plan into motion. Sam would get out. Dean would wait.

He would wait.

It wouldn't be much longer.

Not much longer…

Still too long.

_~~~~~~~_

_Castiel clutched the key_ in the palm of his hand. He didn't dare start to unlock his manacles yet, though he wanted to. He just never knew when Asmodeus might reach down and try to yank him around by them. He would have to wait for the right opportunity. If he was found out, he might not be there to help Sam when the time came.

He was mostly alone right now, aside from a couple guards. He felt the comforting hardness of the dagger hidden underneath his leg. He didn't know exactly what Wheatly was planning, but he hoped it would be soon.

He glanced over at the table to one side of the throne where Asmodeus had put the bottles of his grace he had collected. He'd taken so much…Castiel had little to spare these days as it was, but now he could feel it struggling to keep his angelic powers going.

A commotion sounded out from outside and soon Asmodeus strode into the throne room, guards at his back.

Wheatly was held between them.

The steward was thrown to the ground on his knees, where he looked up at Asmodeus, defiance in his eyes.

Castiel slumped. He really hoped this was part of the demon's plan.

"I had my suspicions about you," Asmodeus was saying. "And it seems that I was right. I only let you go free because I thought it would be better to keep an eye on you." He hammered a fist into the steward's face and Wheatly collapsed on the ground before pushing himself up again.

Asmodeus looked up at the guards. "Bring the other prisoners in here. I want them to see what happens to those who keep their loyalties to deposed rulers."

The guards nodded and most of them left. Castiel tried to catch Wheatly's eye, tried to see if he had something planned. But the steward kept his eyes on the Prince of Hell.

"Why are you so loyal to that human boy, Mr. Wheatly?"

"I suppose I'm tired of getting used to new rulers all the time," Wheatly said with a shrug, reaching up to wipe some blood from the corner of his mouth. "It gets very wearying. You have to figure out what they like and don't like, how they wish business to be conducted. How they like their paperwork filed. A tedious job when you have to readjust three or more times a year."

Asmodeus snorted, shaking his head. "Hell has certainly changed since I left it."

"Yes, it has," Wheatly said quietly.

The guards came rushing back into the room, empty handed.

"My lord!" one cried.

"What is it?" Asmodeus snapped.

"The prisoners…" he panted. "They're, they're not there, my lord."

"What do you mean, they're not there?" Asmodeus demanded.

"They're gone!" The demon said.

Asmodeus growled and clenched his fist. The guard choked and sparked out.

Castiel's eyes went wide. He glanced at Wheatly again and the demon finally looked his way. He nodded, a small smile touching his lips.

Castiel fumbled with the key and inserted it into the lock of one cuff, wriggling it until he heard a click.

"Find them!" Asmodeus shouted. "They can't have gone far!"

"They didn't."

Castiel looked up along with all the others at the voice. The door at the far end of the hall was open, and in stepped Sam, Juliet at his hip, Sean and Winston flanking him, and behind them, the rest of the prisoners.

"They're with me," Sam said, raising his head. "And I'm here to take back my throne."


	7. Chapter 7

Sam held the scythe at his side, his loyal followers at his back, as he faced down Asmodeus. Wheatly knelt at the Prince of Hell's feet, glancing over his shoulder with a satisfied look, and Cas was staring his way as well.

Asmodeus sneered and took a step forward. "You going to try this again, boy? It didn't go so well for you last time."

"Yeah, well, second time's the charm," Sam said and Juliet took that moment as her entrance to launch herself forward to wrap her jaws around Asmodeus's wrist, tearing into his flesh.

Winston and the other demons rushed forward with a shout as Asmodeus's guards jumped into action. Sam raised his hand and launched several of them across the room as he strode toward Asmodeus himself.

The Prince of Hell ripped his arm from Juliet's grasp and backhanded her away from him.

Juliet yelped and skidded across the floor, but regained her feet after a short scramble, instantly taking out a guard that rushed for Sam's flank.

"Juliet, guard Cas!" Sam shouted, and reached behind him for an angel blade he had grabbed from the armory on the way in. "Wheatly!" He tossed the blade to the Steward as the demon climbed to his feet and rushed to Sam's side.

"Your Majesty," Wheatly said calmly as he whirled and stabbed an enemy under the ribs, kicking him off his blade.

"Wheatly," Sam replied. "Thanks."

"To me, you idiots!" Asmodeus was shouting to his guards as Winston and others started to swarm him. His eyes flashed yellow and he held out a hand, slamming a concussive force toward the other demons and sending them flying back. Sam rushed up on his blind side while he was distracted, and lashed out with the scythe.

Asmodeus whirled and flicked his wrist. Sam flew backwards and skidded across the floor, barely managing to keep a hold of the scythe. He scrambled to his feet again as Wheatly lunged forward and stabbed Asmodeus in the thigh with the angel blade.

"You little bastard," Asmodeus snarled and backhanded the steward. Wheatly crashed to the ground near Cas, and the angel looked like he was struggling with his chains. Several demons were approaching him but Juliet snarled and launched herself at them, tearing out their throats.

Sam grunted as he climbed to his feet. Asmodeus glowered at him and strode in his direction.

"How many times am I going to have to put you in your place, boy?" he growled.

"You should know by now that it's not gonna stick," Sam said and flashed his eyes black. He fortified his powers as Asmodeus launched another psychic attack. Sam felt it hit him, and staggered back, but kept his footing this time, now that he was ready for it. He breathed steadily and fought back with everything he had, gritting his teeth. Asmodeus snarled and exerted more force.

Sam tried to focus on the Prince of Hell's demonic energy. He now knew it was the angel grace that was making it hard for him to fight, and he had no idea how much of Cas' the yellow-eyed bastard had consumed recently, so if he could direct his action against the demonic power…

It seemed to be working. His head was pounding and he was sure he would have a nose bleed soon, but he fought back with everything he had.

Until a guard came up on his flank and he broke concentration to take them out with a swipe of the scythe.

The demon howled from the cut, and Asmodeus took that as an opportunity to slam Sam against the nearest wall.

Sam's head smashed against the stone and he saw stars. Blood dripped from his nose, coating his lips until he could taste the coppery flavor. His arms were pinned at his sides, making it impossible for him to move the scythe.

Desperation overcame him as he fought against Asmodeus's power. Dean's name was on his lips instinctively, but his brother couldn't help him this time.

Sam was fighting this battle himself.

_~~~~~~~_

_Dean took a shuddering_ breath to try and calm himself as Virgil turned away to find his next implement of torment. Dean had been working on one of the manacles. It wasn't in the best of conditions and with the right leverage…

Virgil turned back around, a freaking pear of anguish in his hands and a smile on his face.

"This was always a personal favorite of mine, though Alastair said it was too forward. I'll even give you a choice: where would you like me to shove it?"

Dean ripped his hand free of the manacle and grabbed Virgil around the throat, yanking him down to slam his head into the side of the rack. Dean snagged a cleaver from the nearby table and used the hilt to slam into the other manacles, freeing himself.

He leapt off the rack, staggering, as Virgil crawled to his feet again. Dean still held the cleaver, breathing hard. His eyes flicked to black.

"I told you I'd cut your head off," he growled, spitting blood to one side. "And just for the record, you sure as hell are no Alastair."

Virgil turned for a weapon but Dean was already on him.

_~~~~~~~_

_Asmodeus sneered_ as he reached forward and wrapped a hand around Sam's throat, choking him in addition to everything else.

"You're more trouble than you're worth, boy. I was going to make an example out of you, but, well, it looks like I can't keep you around anymore. As much as it pains me to break up a matching set, I still have your brother and your angel. They'll do well enough."

Sam started to see darkness at the edge of his vision as Asmodeus squeezed harder, threatening to crush Sam's windpipe.

Then a motion came behind Asmodeus and the tip of an angel blade appeared through his shoulder. The Prince of Hell roared with pained fury, dropping Sam and spinning around.

Cas stood in his place, bloody angel blade held in his hand, his face a mask of righteous fury, eyes hard and cold above the line of stitching that gagged him.

"You…" Asmodeus snarled.

Sam didn't waste a moment. He lashed out with the scythe and caught Asmodeus across the chest with it.

The Prince of Hell whirled back around to face him. "Is that all you have? You think an old relic belonging to dead gods can defeat me?"

"No," Sam rasped. "But I think it can make a damn good attempt with Shedim poison on it."

Asmodeus's face went blank. He reached up to clutch his check, ripping the shirt open, seeing the deep cut and dark veins already trailing from it. He snarled, but staggered a step.

"Works fast, and hurts like hell," Sam said with a satisfied look, tapping his own shoulder. "Trust me. I know."

"You know this won't kill me," Asmodeus growled.

"Maybe not, but it will keep you out of the game for a while," Sam said. "Good luck finding an antidote."

Asmodeus fell to his knees with a cry of pain, fingers digging into his chest. His eyes flashed yellow and he glowered up at Sam.

"Look who's on his knees now," Wheatly said, coming to stand next to Sam, wiping blood from his cheek. "It looks like he surrenders, my lord."

"You haven't seen the last of me," Asmodeus snarled, then raised his hand and snapped his fingers, disappearing as he teleported back topside.

All of his personal guards who were still alive, hastily did the same. All the other demons who had defected quickly dropped their weapons and raised their hands.

Sam sagged, gingerly placing the poisoned scythe on a table before turning toward the demons. "Yet another rebellion I've quelled," he said firmly. "You might want to think twice about joining someone else's side next time."

He turned to Cas who was sagging and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "Wheatly, Sean, look after Cas and the other wounded. Winston, you come with me. We need to get Dean."

"And what about the defectors, my lord?" Wheatly asked.

"If they still think following Asmodeus is a better option they can leave now and I never want to see them back in Hell again." He watched as the demons shuffled but didn't move. He nodded. "That's settled then."

Winston and Juliet followed him as he strode quickly from the throne room. He stopped by their suite, grabbing Dean's sword on the way, before they ran toward Tartarus.

When they got there, Dean was kneeling on the ground over a dead and hacked apart demon. A cleaver was held in his white-knuckled, blood-covered grip.

"Dean!" Sam called, surprised to see his brother off the rack.

All the other demons in the pit were watching, standing to one side, as if not entirely sure what their course of action should be.

His brother wasn't responding, so Sam cleared his throat, turning to them.

"Asmodeus is gone," he said simply. "I'm the King of Hell again." He raised the sword and the demons' faces paled. "And anyone who touches my family, dies." Juliet growled for good measure and the demons all ducked their heads and went back to work.

"Sammy."

Sam spun around and saw Dean finally rising to his feet. He winced and staggered slightly. Sam handed the sword to Winston and hurried to his brother's side, grabbing his arm.

"Dean," he breathed in relief. "Are you okay?"

"I'll live," Dean muttered.

"Come on," Sam said, reaching down and cringing as he extricated the cleaver from his brother's grip. Dean looked down in surprise as if not having realized he was still holding it and released the hilt.

Juliet snarled at the dead demon Dean had hacked apart and strode over to butt the elder Winchester's hand as if to tell him he'd done a good job.

Sam took quick stock of Dean. His brother's face was covered in blood, probably not all his, and there were rents in his clothes, but luckily the wounds seemed to be mostly shallow. Painful, but not dangerous. Sam knew it was the mental scars that would last longer than the physical ones.

"So what, you took Asmodeus out without me?" Dean demanded.

He was trembling but Sam's relief overcame him and he simply wrapped his arms around his brother. Dean didn't protest about chick flick moments, simply clutched the back of Sam's shirt and took a deep, steadying breath.

Winston kicked the demon's body, pretending not to watch the moment between the brothers, and Sam pulled away, steadying Dean as he got his feet under him.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Sam grunted, wrapping Dean's arm over his shoulder and leading him out of Tartarus.

"You get him?" Dean demanded.

"Not exactly," Sam said grimly. "But I think I bought us enough time to figure out how to do it permanently."

He explained to Dean what had happened as they made their way back to Hell Proper. By the time they got back to the suite, Wheatly was already there, trying to help Cas who was sitting at the table and not having it.

"Fine, if you want to leave those in, be my guest!" the steward snapped. "Bloody stubborn angels!"

Cas looked up with relief as Sam and Dean came in. Dean's eyes widened as he saw Cas though.

"Cas! Holy crap, what the hell did he do?"

The angel glowered, lifting his head defiantly, as Sam lowered Dean down into a chair.

"I'll take those out for you, Cas," he said and grabbed the small scissors Wheatly had been trying to use to remove the stitches. Cas slumped, resigned, as Sam reached out and steadied his chin with one hand before snipping through the stitches.

"Wheatly, can you get the first aid stuff out for Dean?"

The stitches were not pleasant to remove, and Sam winced at the blood clotted around them. Rage boiled through him at the cruelty Asmodeus had used against Cas.

As soon as the stitches were removed, Cas breathed a sigh of relief. "Sam, my grace…" he croaked. "Did Asmodeus leave any?"

Sam glanced up at Wheatly and the demon pressed his lips together. "I'll go check."

Once he left the room Sam sat down opposite Cas for the moment, looking the angel in the eye. "Cas…how bad?"

The angel slumped against the chair, weary. "I still have some grace. He didn't take it all. But…it will take me a while to recover. If there's any left it will help a bit."

Sam nodded, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder before getting up again and turning to Dean.

"Here, let me see," he coaxed.

After a couple seconds of struggling, Sam simply cut his brother's shirt off…it was ruined anyway. He was relieved to see he had been correct in thinking that the wounds were mostly superficial. Only one, a particularly nasty one across Dean's ribs would need stitches. He threaded the needle, noticing Cas stiffen at the sight, and had Dean lean back as he set to work.

By the time he was finished cleaning the wounds, Wheatly had returned, carrying a small wooden box. He set it on the table in front of Cas.

"This is what I found," he said.

The angel actually sent the demon a grateful look as he opened the box and a silvery glow emanated from it. Three small vials of grace were sitting there. Cas breathed a sigh of relief and uncapped them, inhaling his grace again.

He looked a little better afterward, the wounds around his lips healing so that they weren't quite so garish. Sam sighed and finished patching up Dean's injuries.

The elder Winchester pushed himself away from the table, and stood stiffly. "I'm gonna clean up. We all look like crap."

He went to his room to change and Sam sighed, deciding to do the same. He hadn't realized how bad he smelled from wearing the same clothes and being stuck in a cell for days. He needed a shower.

He went to his room and washed swiftly, then changed into jeans and a flannel. He didn't have the energy to put on his suit right now and he really didn't think anyone would care.

When he got back Cas and Wheatly were also cleaned up, Cas once again in his new black trench coat, looking a little more like himself. Wheatly too, despite the bruises decorating his face that the demon seemed to be wearing rather proudly.

Sam glanced toward Dean's room. The door was still closed and he took a deep breath before crossing over to it.

He knocked softly before opening it up.

"Dean?" he inquired as he stepped inside.

Dean was sitting on the side of the bed, dressed in clean clothes, but staring off into space. He startled slightly as Sam came in, and stood stiffly.

"Hey," Sam said softly. "You okay?"

Dean pressed his lips together. "What do you want me to say, Sam? Of course I'm not okay. But I'm not sitting in a corner rocking myself either, so I guess that's as good as it's gonna get."

Sam felt his heart clench. "I'm sorry."

"I'm fine," Dean told him. "It's not your fault. It could have been worse."

"But still…"

"We don't have to talk about it," Dean said firmly then softened a little. "Really, Sam. I'm not gonna say it wasn't traumatic, but I'll deal. We have other problems right now."

Sam nodded and Dean pushed past him to go back out to the main room, going directly over to the bar. He set four cups on the table and poured, passing them out, even to Wheatly.

"So what now?" he put out. "What's our next move?"

Sam sat down wearily and pulled his glass toward him, though didn't drink it. "Asmodeus will come back," he said with certainty. "But we'll be ready."

"Yeah, and the only thing we found that could kill a Prince of Hell was the Colt and that spear Ramiel had, both of which are toast," Dean reminded them.

"There may be something else in the vault we can use," Wheatly offered.

"Yeah, but that's not our only problem," Sam said. "As long as Asmodeus is shooting angel grace, he can use his powers against us. As long as he can do that, then we won't be able to fight on the same ground. He'll always have the upper hand."

"Then you get stronger," Dean told him. "You get stronger and you beat him at his own game."

Sam rubbed his forehead. "I don't know…I don't know if I can. I mean, these powers…I've learned a lot about them, but I don't know how much else there is to learn. Even that might not be enough."

They were all silent for a long moment. Then Dean downed his drink and refilled it.

"You know what will be enough? What's always enough?" he asked, looked around the table and gesturing between all of them. "Us. That's what. We've taken on bigger than Asmodeus, we're not going to let some druggy Prince of Hell take us down. Not after everything we've been through."

Cas looked up and nodded, taking up his own glass finally. "I have faith in us," he said simply.

Wheatly raised his glass. "Never let it be said that the Winchesters should be underestimated," he said wryly.

Sam finally offered a small smile and raised his own glass. "You're right. We'll figure it out. Together."

They drank and Sam felt a little courage enter him as the whisky burned down his throat. Dean was right. They'd fought worse together and won. It hadn't been easy, and neither would this, but Sam was sure that they would be able to win this fight too.

Asmodeus had better watch his back, because a reckoning was coming and its name was Winchester.

_To Be Continued in: Abandon All Hope_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up before the next multi-chapter fic will be a one shot featuring Cas and Wheatly on a mission together so keep an eye out for that soon!


End file.
